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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431122">Ineffable Dogma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma'>ThetaSigma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dogma (1999), Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Complete -- not a WIP, Crossover, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Different couples though obviously, Established Relationship, Explicit stuff is only in chapter 2, First Time, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley find out there is apparently a massive plot threatening all of creation. With a bit of experience stopping the End of Everything, they set off to make sure nothing goes wrong. Which is a good thing, as no one told Bethany &amp; Co what was <i>really</i> at stake. In the end, it takes all of them -- Bethany &amp; Co and the Ineffable Husbands -- to fix this.</p><p>***<br/><i>Bethany has the feeling, on and off, since they left the club with the shit demon, that they’re being watched. Oh, she knows that both Heaven and Hell are watching their actions pretty fucking closely, really, but it doesn’t feel like that.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>It’s like someone, maybe several someones, are following them, following her. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>She catches glimpses, sometimes. Of red hair, or a scowl, or white hair, or a cherubic face wreathed in disappointment.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>But it’s gone as quickly as it came and she’s left doubting if it ever happened.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Bartleby/Loki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Main Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts">tobeconspicuous</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is for tobeconspicuous because she asked me, well over half a year ago, to write a Dogma/Good Omens crossover. Eventually I did. </p><p>Also, for the WIP-phobic: There are two chapters -- the main story and a silly 'outtakes' chapter, which is also the only chapter that is actually explicit. Chapter 1 would get an M, I think. I never really got the ratings system completely. Both the main story and the outtakes are complete, and I'll be posting the outtakes chapter tomorrow or the day after (work and life permitting). </p><p>About the timelines -- obviously, Dogma and Good Omens (TV) don't quite line up (or you know, at all really), but the book would. Except I haven't read the book fully, so I wasn't comfortable tagging it like I based it off of that. In any case, any time they don't match up, please wave your hand at the screen and go "it's ineffable, dear, we're not <i>meant</i> to understand" in your best Aziraphale impression. Also make mocking faces in your best Crowley impression about handwaving away plotholes with excuses of 'ineffability'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bethany has the feeling, on and off, since they left the club with the shit demon, that they’re being watched. Oh, she knows that both Heaven and Hell are watching their actions pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> closely, really, but it doesn’t feel like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like someone, maybe several someones, are following them, following </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She catches glimpses, sometimes. Of red hair, or a scowl, or white hair, or a cherubic face wreathed in disappointment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s gone as quickly as it came and she’s left doubting if it ever happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sees them on the train, just briefly. Two men are fucking in the train’s bathroom -- she glimpses them through the improperly shut door -- as Silent Bob drags the renegade angels off. But there’s too much going on right then for her to get a good look, and by the time she remembers them -- remembers the feeling that she’s being followed, the flashes of someone behind her -- they’re gone again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head and wonders if she’s started hallucinating from the stress. After all, the fate of creation itself is in her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t see them again for what feels like weeks and turns out to be a day at most. Fuck this whole mission, she thinks bitterly. But she catches a glimpse again in New Jersey, after speaking with the unspeakable Cardinal Glick, and she’s more unnerved than she can say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany hasn’t mentioned it to anyone. Not Rufus, not Jay, not Silent Bob, not the Metatron. She knows that they’re trying to protect her, but she feels like an idiot any time she considers telling them. “Yeah, I think two people have been following us and I don’t think I’ve really gotten a good look at them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t want them to doubt her ability to finish this mission. She doesn’t want them to think she’s crazy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t want to admit how fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span> she is by these two shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything to the group, just glances over her shoulder frequently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re stuck in that shitty fucking bar with Azrael lecturing them. All of them make a valiant effort to keep him talking, but he’s a bit too clever for that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not going well. Serendipity seems to be deliberately pissing him off, hoping to spark </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that would help. Rufus has shut up. Silent Bob isn’t saying anything, not that </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> a surprise. Jay is more quiet than usual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azrael is gloating, and the triplets look smug. Bethany tries to impress on him that it would </span>
  <em>
    <span>end creation,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Azrael gives zero fucks about that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tension and panic in the room is broken by someone breaking down the door. It splinters spectacularly, leaving shards the floor and the bottom fifth or so still clinging to existence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, I’ve had it up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking here</span>
  </em>
  <span> with this </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> bullshit,” a thoroughly pissed-off and English voice tells them, stepping over the remnants of the door. He’s tall, lanky, with spiky red hair and sunglasses. He has a snake tattoo on his face and is dressed in jeans that are tight enough to cut off circulation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well put, my dear, although I think I’d have used slightly different language,” another, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> English voice says. It’s prim and fussy, and suits the man who gingerly follows the first into the club. He’s shorter, with a round, cherubic face and white hair. He’s dressed in a waistcoat and a bowtie and is basically the walking definition of the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘camp’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group -- Bethany, Jay, Silent Bob, Rufus, plus Azrael and the triplets -- stare at the two newcomers, who level identical, pissed off glares at them. Only Serendipity isn’t looking; she’s busy worriedly looking at the TV screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you two, don’t I?” Rufus says first, staring from one to the other. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity finally looks over and shrieks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The Principality!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the same time as Azrael screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The traitors!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He motions for the triplets to raise their guns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thoroughly pissed-off redhead snaps his fingers, and the triplets are frozen. The equally pissed-off shorter man tuts at the state of the room. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> like to make an entrance, my dear.” He turns to the gang, such as it were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silent Bob is staring, silently. Jay is still talking a mile a minute, “Who are you? What did he mean, the traitors? To what? What the fuck is a principality? Are you angels too? Hey, why is no one answering me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity says drily, “No one’s had a chance, yet.” She gives the two newcomers a thoroughly disgusted look. “So they sent </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> too. Didn’t trust us not to balls it up? Or are you here to help Azrael?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany is shrinking back in her seat. These are the two men who were following her, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. The white-haired one smiles benevolently at her. “Be not afraid, my dear,” he says. “The cavalry has arrived.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The redhead snorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azrael is </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span> about being ignored by these two. “So, you and your pet angel decide to stop by,” he snarls. “Well, you won’t ruin the plans this time!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The redhead -- Bethany is rapidly wishing someone would at least give her their names -- shoots a withering look at Azrael. “Oh, would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Satan, you’re dull. Always have been. Whingeing about how bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>unfair</span>
  </em>
  <span> your Fall was. Don’t see me complaining, d’you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany freezes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> At least one of these two is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>demon,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then. She’s not exactly had good experiences with them the past three or four days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries to regulate her breathing. She is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to have a panic attack now. She can’t. Creation isn’t safe yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azrael growls at the demon. The demon smirks at him. “Right, this is how this is going to go: We’re gonna sort your stupid fucking plot out, then we’re gonna go give those fucking dumbass angels a scare, then we’re gonna get the fuck back to England and go back to properly enjoying life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity, meanwhile, is gesturing at Silent Bob, pointing to the putter and the two demons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silent Bob hefts it cautiously, giving her a questioning look. She points at the demons again, emphatically, but the signalling catches the attention of the two demons. Azrael smirks. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. Strike.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the other demon is nearer. Silent Bob isn’t quite sure where these two newcomers enter into the picture, but he doesn’t think they’re good news. No one seems to be happy to see them. And, well, one of the newcomers is also a demon. Silent Bob has learned enough to know that demons are bad news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silent Bob readjusts his grip on the putter and swings it at the closer demon. The demon catches it easily and chucks it to the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other one, the one the others called a “Principality”, gasps in terror. He flies to the demon’s side and inspects his hand. “My dearest, that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s stopped inspecting the redhead’s hand and is now just holding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The demon snorts. “Please, it was blessed by that prick Glick. One of Hell’s for sure. Barely tickled, not after all the time I’ve spent with your --”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Principality interrupts him. “Yes, Crowley, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough, thank you.” He blushes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany latches onto the name. It’s such a stupid piece of information to want, but she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> want it. She can keep calling the other one the Principality. The part of her mind that isn’t gibbering with shock and terror starts wondering just what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> these two are. Because the Principality seems to be an angel (she can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Metatron despairing at her religious education), and Crowley is very clearly a demon. And she’s pretty sure Crowley was about to say something sexual. She’s unfortunately fairly attuned to it after days with Jay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Also, while she’s not prepared to swear to it, she’s pretty sure they were the two men fucking in the train’s bathroom. She remembers the Metatron yanking down his pants to prove he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> genitalia and wonders exactly how that works with this exceptionally odd duo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azrael is backing away from Crowley and the Principality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity starts shouting. “Aziraphale, </span>
  <em>
    <span>bless the sink! BLESS THE SINK!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Principality -- Aziraphale -- looks stricken and doesn’t go closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity keeps shouting: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“BLESS THE SINK!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale doesn’t move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity finally turns to Bethany and shouts the same thing at her, and Bethany does, flinging herself across the counter to make the sign of the cross over it. With Rufus, Silent Bob and Jay’s help, they shove Azrael into the now-holy water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes him ages to die. It’s slow and spreads, and it’s a waste of </span>
  <em>
    <span>time,</span>
  </em>
  <span> because who knows where Bartleby and Loki are by now. Serendipity is so angry she could spit fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaving Bethany, Rufus, Silent Bob, and Jay to deal with the still-frozen triplets (they get a dunk in holy water and die a lot faster), she storms over to Aziraphale. “Why the hell didn’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>bless the sink?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale fidgets. “Oh, but that dear child handled it so well,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity glares at him. “She’s the last scion. You’re a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Principality.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That schmuck would have melted in seconds if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’d</span>
  </em>
  <span> blessed the fucking water!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale gives her a hard look. “Crowley was too near.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>AND?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she screams back at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think I’d endanger my husband’s life?” he says. He looks around. “Where </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crowley?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silent Bob points out the window, where they can see Crowley striding off towards the church. They see him throw something to the side -- his sunglasses, apparently -- and suddenly enormous black wings spring into being.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale tugs his waistcoat down and holds his head high. “Then it’s about time we dealt with the renegades.” He sighs sadly. “I will never understand why they thought they were being punished. Eternity on Earth… it’s incomparable.” He tuts. “I do wish I still had the flaming sword.” He walks after Crowley at a more sedate pace, his own enormous wings manifesting onto the Earthly plane.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany, for several moments, is too shell-shocked to move. That whole bit about the holy water made it very clear Aziraphale is an angel and high up in whatever those echelons are. Metatron was going over it once, but she hadn’t listened much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes herself and dashes after them, the rest of the gang hot on her heels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby feels so free. His wings are out, he’s flying around, and he’s trying to ignore Loki’s sudden conscience. Not when he’s so close!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The angry tall redhead with snake’s eyes and huge black wings makes him shrink back. He lands next to Loki and hisses in panic, “Crowley is here! Loki, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, CROWLEY is HERE!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki’s drunk. “So?” he giggles. “You always said he was a shit demon. Third-rate at best. You kept laughing about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby levels an angry glare at him, amazed anyone could be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You absolute imbecile,” he hisses. “If </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley</span>
  </em>
  <span> is here, so is the Principality. We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki shivers. He remembers Aziraphale. He’d thought maybe Aziraphale would have said something about the whole flaming sword thing -- after all, Aziraphale had his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> flaming sword story (and what a shock it wasn’t lost, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>given away)</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- but no. He’s not been a fan of the unassuming angel since.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks up, and sure enough, there is the pissed-off demon in front of him. “You two are </span>
  <em>
    <span>complete fucking shitbrains,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hisses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither Loki nor Bartleby quite know how to react to that. Nor do they know what to do when Crowley smiles suddenly. It’s certainly not a pleasant smile. “But I’m gonna let my husband sort </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> one out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale is still coming down the street. He’s not in any hurry now; Crowley would stop the two if they made a movement towards the church. Few people realise this, but Crowley is actually pretty powerful. He’d been among the Thrones before Falling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Crowley does so love to watch Aziraphale burn with righteous anger, and divine wrath is so much more terrifying to an angel than an angry demon, no matter how powerful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anyway, Aziraphale is the Principality here, and his domain is the Earth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reaches the trio. Bartleby and Loki are looking defeated, and Crowley is impatiently waiting. Aziraphale enjoys stretching the tension of the moment by walking a bit more slowly, a bit more purposefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He eyes the two angels with distaste. “You two are brainless, gullible fools,” he starts. “Someone sends you a clipping from a newspaper and suddenly you’re rushing to New Jersey. Did you never stop to think who might be interested in having you walk through that church? Did you never consider that it wasn’t someone who cared about you sending you that? Of course not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany and the others catch up. Seeing the confrontation between the angels and demon, they wisely hang back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rufus suddenly sparks. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> them!” he says triumphantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Serendipity shoots him a dark look. “Yes, the angel and demon who’ve been stationed here since the Garden of Eden, prevented the Apocalypse, and survived execution. Where have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>been?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rufus waves that off. “You know I don’t pay attention to politics, Muse. No, no, the redhead -- she… he? Listen, he was female when I met him. She showed Jesus the wonders of the world. Tempting him away from his path. The other one was there, too. He sat with Jesus sometimes. Just listened, soaking it all up. Shit, I didn’t know they were, y’know, immortal beings and all that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany chews her lip. “Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to stop the renegades?” she asks. “Why did they need </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no answer to that. Silent Bob puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. They shuffle a bit closer to be able to watch the confrontation, wisely staying out of range.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby is currently pouting at the ground. “I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hisses. “I want back in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale scowls. “I can’t imagine why. You think it’s actually improved since you were last up there? I’ve been exiled and frankly, I couldn’t be happier. You never tried to adjust, did you? Either of you. Spent the entirety of those several thousand years moping about how unfair it was. Why, you should try sushi!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley snorts. “They were stuck in Wisconsin, angel. No seafood there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looks stricken for a moment, then turns mulish. “Well, there would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> worth eating! Don’t they have excellent dairy farms there? Why, they could have become experts in cheese! I bet they didn’t even try to make an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Effort. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Think of all you’ve missed out on with your corporeal bodies!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As amusing as this detour into the culinary benefits of Wisconsin is, you wanna maybe circle back to the point, angel?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, sorry. Bit peckish, honestly. Did you know we’ve missed dinner, breakfast, and lunch at this point?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley is distracted by this and grins wolfishly. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> had breakfast, angel. You even chided me about talking with my mouth full, I recall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>None of the others know </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> what to make of this exchange. Serendipity is disgusted by the whole thing -- an angel and a demon? She shudders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rufus is a bit puzzled. He’s finally recalling these two, and he’d never seen Crowley eat. Aziraphale, sure, all the time, but never Crowley. Seems odd Crowley would be the one to have had breakfast, then. The innuendo will hit him later. Sadly, quite a bit later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany is still pretty hung up on the whole lack of genitalia thing and is wondering what they’re actually talking about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jay is working through in his head just what they’ve done, and it’s obvious when he works it out, because he shouts “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusting!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> before Bethany can clap a hand over his mouth. Luckily, except for an amused snort of laughter from Crowley, he’s ignored. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silent Bob just shrugs and makes some vague motions to indicate it’s all good. He doesn’t much care. They look like a nice couple, honestly, not that he’d waste words saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby and Loki are more thrown off balance by the aborted talking-to. They share a look, clearly thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘we were worried about </span>
  </em>
  <span>these two</span>
  <em>
    <span>?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale taps a finger against his lips for a moment. “Gosh darn it, I’ve forgotten what I was talking about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heaven, banishment, Wisconsin, food, you’re peckish…” Crowley recites. “No, wait, you were lecturing them!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so I was. Honestly, it’s so hard to stay on track. Right, sorry, where was I?” He gives the two angels a stern look. “I was telling you you two were utterly foolish to not question that newspaper clipping. Off to New Jersey you trot. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Since Heaven, I mean. After all, you’ve forgotten to be on the watch for demons. You’ve forgotten to be cautious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby snarls, “I don’t know how, but somehow you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> a demon, if you’ve forgotten.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale chides, “No, I’m having sex with my husband. Do pipe down, I’m trying to lecture you here. Would people please stop making this difficult?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki laughs. He can’t help it. He’s pretty drunk, and any terror he had about the Principality showing up has dissipated entirely over this talking-to. Bartleby’s lost any terror he’s had, too, and he snaps open his wings, ready to take back to the sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale draws himself up, and suddenly the easily flustered, silly eccentric bookshop owner guise he wears falls off. “Do you realise what you’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>cause</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you went through that church?” he asks harshly. “Do you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t worry, the last scion filled us in. End of creation. I don’t care. Rather end it than be stuck outside of Heaven anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley makes a disgusted noise. “Oh, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck’s sake,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he growls. Aziraphale shoots him a look, and he subsides.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby and Jay both cough something along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘whipped’.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiles a smile that could cut diamond. “And you believed her?” he asks, almost pityingly. “You thought Metatron told her the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki freezes. Even Bartleby looks disturbed. “It won’t cause the end?” Loki asks, looking almost relieved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Aziraphale tuts. “It’s a ploy to restart Armageddon, of course. Azrael fell for the same trick, of course. He wanted to end everything because of his bitterness. No, no, Heaven and Hell will be fine, and Earth will be used as the battlefield. After all, the whole Antichrist thing didn’t exactly work out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He and Crowley share a smug look at that one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m rather afraid to say that they were planning on using that -- and God’s disappearance, of course -- as their opening salvo. Not quite sure how they planned that one, but as I understand it, Hell would be blamed for the attempt to mutiny against God with you returning, Earth would be squarely implicated, and boom, war. I might not have it </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> right, it’s not like Gabriel sent me a memo. Crowley and I worked it out together, so I may be missing one of their planned details…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley smacks his forehead. “Angel, we barely heard about this as it was. If we </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it might have gone off without a hitch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale frowns. “Who sent </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> the message about it, then? We thought it was one of the angels or demons, but most of them were in on this. Oh, fighting each other in preparation for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> battle, of course, but they both wanted this to actually happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They ponder it for some seconds -- aware of the time constraints -- but come to no answer. Aziraphale shakes his head. “It’s inexplicable. It’s got all the drama of the Great Plan with none of the brains. Half of this is… </span>
  <em>
    <span>ineffable.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley groans. “I hate that word, angel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany’s head is spinning. It doesn’t make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Metatron came to her to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> this, after all. Nothing is adding up. She’s still crouching behind a car, staying out of sight, trying to ignore all the bodies around her, and she cannot figure out what she is supposed to be doing now. The angels are making no move towards the church. Her job was to stop them, and if they were trying to bring the Apocalypse around -- Heaven and Hell, that was, and what was this about an Antichrist? -- then why would they want her to stop them?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s dawning on her that she’s been lied to and manipulated and has a role she does not want to closely examine in all this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby shrugs. “So? I go back to Heaven -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> go back to Heaven -- and we have the End of Days. I’m not really seeing a downside except that we’ll be human souls. Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> here? It’s a den of iniquity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley laughs humorlessly. “Do you honestly think that you’d be welcomed back? Don’t believe that bullshit about God and omnipotence and proving her wrong, because that is horsehit. But do you really think that if you go through there, God would welcome you back?” He leans in closer. “Do you think you’ll really feel God’s love as a mortal soul? The same way you felt as an angel? The same way you think you’re missing now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale frowns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby shouts, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel it! Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> people, dare doubt me on that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugs. “Why shouldn’t I? After all, being on Earth doesn’t take away God’s love. Ask Aziraphale. But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel it. Why do you think you’d feel it as a mortal soul?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby crumples in on himself. Loki is struggling with the whole ‘really fucking drunk’ thing and not able to contribute much. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley know whether that’s a good thing. “I just want to go home,” he sobs. Loki pats his back comfortingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley loses what little patience he’d had left. “You two are the biggest fucking idiots on the planet. Even for angels, you’re dumb.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Aziraphale protests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley ignores him and continues. “What in Satan’s name made Heaven good? Was it the assignments? The gossip? The backstabbing? I refuse to believe you really just want to hang out with Gabriel and the Metatron that badly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby doesn’t answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley presses on. “Or was it because you two were friends? Was it the shit you did together? You’re lucky. You got exiled with your best friend. And instead of being happy about it, you two nimrods spent millennia moping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby finally nods. As endings go, it’s anticlimactic. No great showdown, no battle to the death, just wise immortal beings talking sense into stupid ones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least, it’s anticlimactic until the police manage to finally show up. There are dozens of dead bodies around, and Bartleby and Loki had been on the news killing them. It’s an open-and-shut case, and they’re being treated as extremely dangerous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The four pairs of enormous wings -- three white, one black -- do not help the situation any. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stand-off between the cops and the immortals is tense. Bethany bites her lip; she feels like she’s missing </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She resolves to figure out later what her role </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> was, as opposed to what they told her. But there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> niggling at her about this whole thing. All of them, even the two who seemed to have the clearest idea of what was going on, have some unexplained loose ends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A couple of different things batter her brain. God’s still missing, unless that was a lie too. She’s starting to doubt a lot of what has been going on, but she shoves it aside. Everyone so far has agreed God is missing, even the weird newcomers. She decides to accept that it’s probably true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of those two -- who apparently have some experience preventing Armageddon -- have any idea who or what tipped </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ineffable. She feels like she knows that word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Serendipity, what does ineffable mean?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words,” Serendipity recites automatically. “Synonyms would be indescribable or inexpressible. It is often used to describe the workings of God.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany feels like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> has all the pieces of the puzzle. There’s still one thing missing. Where </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> God?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jay says suddenly, looking around cautiously. None of the police are looking at </span>
  <em>
    <span>them,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they silently creep further away. “Hey, this is where that John Doe Jersey guy is. That hospital. Heard about him on the news, that was whack, man, just attacked out of nowhere, in a coma…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany feels the realization crash into her. She bolts for the hospital, running to John Doe Jersey’s unattended hospital room. Anyone who could walk cleared out of the hospital when the whole shit with the church started, apparently. The End of the World, and all that. Still, she’s cautious as she slips into his room and fumbles for the cord to the life-support machines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not given much thought to prayer lately, but she does send up one now that if she’s wrong and this is just some poor homeless guy beaten for no reason, he makes a miraculous recovery when she unplugs everything keeping him alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she yanks the cord and unplugs him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world bends and twists and breaks and remakes itself. There’s no one in the bed. Not even a body. It’s like John Doe Jersey had never been there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany trudges back to the church, unsure of what happened. She’s missed pretty much all of the stand-off, it seems. The police are getting into their cars and driving away with not a shot fired. She’s pretty sure she would have heard that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley is keeping a close eye on Loki and Bartleby while Aziraphale is brushing his hand across each dead body’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are a lot fewer dead bodies on the ground, Bethany realizes, and people are just… walking away. People who hadn’t been there before. Or rather, they’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> a moment ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” she hisses at Jay, Silent Bob, Rufus, and Serendipity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hypnosis,” Serendipity says. “Demonic, definitely. Crowley’s good at that. Lots of power, lots of imagination.” She smiles suddenly. “Can you imagine if he ever decided to create?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still feels anticlimactic, they all think. Bethany doesn’t see the Metatron again. He’s scarpered off somewhere. Probably back to Heaven, she thinks sourly, and thinks of the likely lies she’s been told. Or half-truths. She’d have liked to ask him about it. She’d been hoping that he hadn’t been lying, that it hadn’t been a plan for the End of Times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But his absence speaks volumes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wonders what on Earth her </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> role was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They discuss it: Bethany, Silent Bob, Jay, Rufus, Serendipity, Aziraphale, Crowley, Bartleby, and Loki. In the shitty bar that Azrael had captured them in, which Aziraphale and Crowley had easily put back together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It looks a hell of a lot nicer now. There’s an odd blend of wood paneling and chrome. Bethany doesn’t think she’d have believed the two went together until she saw it, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>works.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A modern bar is in front of old-fashioned wooden booths. Crowley mixes a bunch of drinks for them, and they sit in one of those booths. It’s incredibly comfortable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley has his arm around Aziraphale, who’s leaning against him comfortably. They’re all trying to figure out what just happened, bring all the different pieces of the story together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby and Loki are subdued. Bethany suspects they’re holding hands under the table, but she doesn’t check. They seem to have taken what Aziraphale and Crowley said to heart, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They also don’t make a single sudden movement again. Loki had reached for his drink a bit too sharply, and Crowley had nearly taken his head off. Every movement is slow and careful from them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really get what my actual role was,” Bethany mumbles into the glass. Silent Bob pats her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale studies his own drink far too intently. “Well, dear, I think your involvement might have been a mistake or miscommunication or…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley cuts in. “You were set up to fail. The morons over here were </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to enter the church, and your part in it was a convenient target for Hell. After all, you were supposed to stop the angels -- that part had been Hell’s plan. Adding you in the mix was Heaven’s. It’s… a fair shitshow, actually. Basically, you were the common element between two shit bureaucracies. I still wonder who tipped </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale nods. “That part has been puzzling me, too. None of Heaven’s agents will contact me, none of Hell’s will contact you, and everyone else involved was either in on it or completely clueless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany thinks she might have the answer. “Was… I don’t know if any of you would know, but was God actually missing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugs. “Hey, kid, I don’t exactly have a line to the Almighty these days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale nods. “Well, I mean, I’m fairly certain that was the case. Of course, God has been hands-off in most ways for millennia, but She was actually completely gone this time. Or so I believe.” He gives a rueful smile. “I’m not exactly welcome in Heaven these days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany bites her lip. “I don’t… I don’t really know, of course, what happened before, what you guys mentioned with an Antichrist or whatever. But… Serendipity defined ‘ineffable’ for me… Could… I don’t know if this is possible, but could </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span> have let you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other. “It’s possible,” Aziraphale says. “I always rather thought She didn’t want Armageddon to happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would fit with that whole Ineffable Plan you keep going on about,” Crowley adds. He looks critically at Serendipity and Rufus. “Did you two know it wasn’t going to cause the end of everything?” he asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both shake their heads. “Fuck, man, we got </span>
  <em>
    <span>played,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rufus grumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They can’t think of much else to wrap up. They’re a bit surprised it actually worked out, and Crowley and Aziraphale make a note to remind Heaven and Hell they’re to stay the fuck away from Earth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have several questions for Crowley and Aziraphale, some inconsistencies they don’t quite get.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jay asks first. “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you two? No one was happy to see you guys! Like whoa, it was like when me and Silent Bob go somewhere back in Jersey, fucking everyone would boo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley and Aziraphale grin. “I’m Crowley,” Crowley says. “I’m a demon. I tempted Eve to eat the apple. This is my husband,” he adds, nodding at Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m the Principality Aziraphale, Guard of Eastern Gate of Eden,” Aziraphale says, introducing himself formally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s a Principality? Is that like some angel shit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale sighs, deploring at the man’s poor language. Not just the swearing, but the generally terrible sentence constructions. “It is a ranking of angels. Principalities are the protectors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany has a lot of questions about the specific hierarchies of angels, and Aziraphale answers them patiently. The others start glazing over in boredom. Crowley doesn’t much care -- his previous Throne status never excited him, either as an angel or a demon. Loki and Bartleby obviously know it already; they’re angels. Serendipity and Rufus do, too, and Jay can’t be arsed to care. Silent Bob could be interested or he could be completely bored, but he’s occasionally nodding, so the others aren’t quite sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jay breaks in finally. “No, but why do they all hate you? I mean, is it just ‘cause you two are fucking?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half the table splutters at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, man, they hated us before.” Crowley quickly sums up 6,000 years of disputes with their relative Head Offices. “And we did stop their previous attempt at Armageddon, so they really hate us. They tried to kill us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby and Serendipity lean forward interestedly. “How did you two survive?” one of them asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiles secretively. “It’s ineffable, dear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rufus looks consideringly at Crowley. “You don’t seem half bad,” he says finally. “Why’d you Fall?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t stop asking questions,” Crowley says finally. Aziraphale squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. I don’t think there’s any difference between Heaven and Hell -- for angels and demons, anyway -- other than color scheme and choice of torture method.” He gives a pained smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They decide to change the subject quickly. “How are you two drinking?” Bethany asks. “Metatron said that angels can’t drink. Well, okay, I see why Crowley can, then, the whole demon thing, but how about you, Aziraphale?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Metatron said that angels aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drink, dear, there’s a bit of a difference. Or rather, they are not allowed to be unalterably drunk. Metatron and most other angels got around that with that weird spitting thing they do. Crowley and I figured out how to sober up after drinking. All the benefits of inebriation with none of the downsides of hangovers.” He smiles angelically at them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rufus suddenly exclaims, "I get the breakfast comment now! It's a blowjob joke!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone else turns disbelieving stares on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally Crowley says drily, "Worked that out all by yourself, too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That does remind me, man, what I wanna know is how you two fuck,” Loki says. “I mean, this is a bit, uh… relevant, to me." He studiously doesn't look at Bartleby as he says this. Quickly he adds, "I’ve been wanting to masturbate for </span>
  <em>
    <span>centuries,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but angels don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> genitalia. And you two </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley grins. “As often as we can get away with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley laughs. “Angels and demons, eh. Not much real difference. For example, pretty much all of you lack imaginations. Just… imagine you have one. Imagine it works. Imagine it’s fun. Boom, you should have the genitals of your choice. Can even change it up. Cock one day, cunt the next. Shit, both at once. Really the limit is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>imagination.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki seems to be taking that under advisement. Bartleby, too. They shoot each other a look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley squeezes Aziraphale’s shoulder, then withdraws his arm. “I think it’s about time for us to head out,” he says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale nods. He gives the two renegades a stern look. “If you two so much as step on the grass when there is a sign forbidding it, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be back. You two live </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span> lives now. I would rather avoid having to have another one of those stern talkings-to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby and Loki nod, a bit terrified. They’re never quite sure which of the two is scarier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley lets Aziraphale head out first, hanging back for a moment. “If you two have trouble  adjusting, I can give a tip or two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They gape at him as he lopes off after Aziraphale. He whirls around suddenly and comes back, giving them a grin full of sharp fangs. “And if Aziraphale has to come out again, I’m not going to stand by and watch this time. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want to piss me off, boys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks after Aziraphale, and this time neither come back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all go their separate ways, then. Serendipity heads out again, going back to enjoy Earth a bit. Rufus heads back to Heaven -- he doesn’t really have much choice in the matter. And it’s not that bad for a human, really. Just the angels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bartleby and Loki head off together. Back to Wisconsin, probably. Bethany pretends not to notice their pinkies are linked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walks off with Jay and Silent Bob. Shit, her life before this had been pretty dull. She’s not ready to head back to Illinois and work at the abortion center. “Come on, boys, let’s go see what waits for us. No, Jay, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not sex. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least not with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Epilogue:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God here. Please don’t think less of me for having a skee-ball habit. It’s just… humans can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so inventive.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not noticing the triplets, that was just stupid. But I mean, I’m God, how often can I sit on a random bench and enjoy the ocean breeze on my face? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when I am anywhere near Heaven, all these angels keep bothering me to tell them my Great Plan and what I want them to do and what my wishes are, and frankly, my wish is to be left alone. I’m your creator, not your boss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those demons, though, yeah, they got me. Fair shot. You know, though, that solid week I spent stuck in a body in a coma was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so peaceful.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m kind of wondering if I can go back and do it again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right, sorry, the demons. You have to ask yourself, how’d they know I was away from Heaven just then playing skee-ball? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I think they’d figured out by then that if I was around, Armageddon wouldn’t happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, I let Crowley and Aziraphale know about the plot. Poor Bethany, roped into it to save creation and not aware that she was supposed to play a role in bringing about Armageddon. But Aziraphale and Crowley have experience stopping world-ending plots. Their particular skill, the one I really wanted them to use, is convincing others of the right thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I didn’t want Loki and Bartleby punished any more than they already were. Actually, can I just say, I really respected Loki refusing to keep doing it. He was a good angel. I honestly didn’t want to punish them for it. But sending them to Earth in exile (oh, Wisconsin. A joke, they could have -- and eventually </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- leave any time they wanted to) seemed to be something I could give them as a reward and sell to Heaven as a punishment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly, being in charge of that lot is exhausting. You see why I play skee-ball.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Loki and Bartleby didn’t see it as a reward. I’m starting to think I need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>explain</span>
  </em>
  <span> things to these moronic beings I’ve created. Not that they’d listen to me half the time. I mean, even the drinking thing! Granted, Gabriel became about half as obnoxious when he stopped -- and think about how obnoxious he is now! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spitting thing was so unimaginative. I despair sometimes, I really do. I much prefer Crowley and Aziraphale’s answer. Well, Aziraphale’s. After all, Crowley isn’t one of my charges anymore (and the poor dear. I am really very fond of him, but he doesn’t want to hear it. Fair, I suppose). But good for him for picking up the trick anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hopefully Loki and Bartleby figure it out quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re doing well, actually. They’ve both developed </span>
  <em>
    <span>imaginations,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which they use often and inventively. Crowley, the sly old demon, sometimes emails them tips or pointers. Aziraphale occasionally adds tips of his own. Those emails are the funniest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those two are doing well, too. Now that Loki and Bartleby figured out they can actually leave Wisconsin (what was I going to do, put a force field around the state? Morons), they meet up with Crowley and Aziraphale occasionally. They’ve tried sushi now!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki’s face when he tried it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hysterical.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rufus is up here again, hanging out with my son. He’s been looking around Heaven with a lot more jaded eye sometimes, which saddens me. I really didn’t want him to get involved in all this, sadly. Serendipity hasn’t come back, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bethany, Jay, and Silent Bob are living together now. All of them platonic life partners. I think Bethany would like that part stressed. She actually enjoys their company, for the most part. Silent Bob’s even said a total of 12 words to her at this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know it yet, but her uterus is fine. A gift for being a good sport about Heaven’s bullshit. She’ll find out soon enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m sending a good man her way. They can decide what to do from there. Crowley and Aziraphale may become godfathers again. Loki and Bartleby too, maybe. Depends on what they decide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You know, the Metatron was right about one thing he told Bethany, though. I am lonely. Maybe I’ll play some skee-ball.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Outtakes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>These are just silly little outtakes that wouldn't work in the main story but I couldn't resist writing. This chapter is the one with the explicit bits.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Glimpsing the Ragtag Gang</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>kidding</span>
  </em>
  <span> me,” Crowley says, peeking in the window of the shitty club to see Bethany, Jay, Silent Bob, Rufus, and Serendipity. “You were right, angel, they’re not meant to succeed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale also looks in the window and tuts. “Did they really think that would fool </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Why, those two men with her aren’t even guaranteed to get into Heaven as is! A demon could still lead them astray.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley nods. “Oh, they’d be easy pickings. Already know which sin to go with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> lust. And yet, an angel could still get them into Heaven.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale considers this. “I think I’d play on compassion.” He looks at the group again. “That poor woman theoretically leading the charge looks overwhelmed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t think she even knows she’s a pawn in some seriously labyrinthian politics,” Crowley agrees. “And they managed to get one of the apostles to join up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rufus,” Aziraphale says. “He was always a funny one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t interact with him much, but then again, I didn’t interact with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. Just showed him the wonders of the world, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask at the time -- were you trying to tempt him away from becoming a martyr in some Hellish plot? I know that’s what the Bible </span>
  <em>
    <span>says,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but, well…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know better than to trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crowley says. “After all, you are literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the demon who did that.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale kisses the tip of Crowley’s nose. “Exactly. You can tell me what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, I wasn’t trying to stop him from becoming a martyr. Doubt it would have worked. I told you then, I felt sorry for him. He was never going to see it anyway and he was about to be strung up like a sacrificial lamb. Honestly, I was trying to be… uh…” Crowley falters for a minute, having trouble -- still -- saying the word. Aziraphale waits patiently, same as Crowley does when Aziraphale has trouble admitting that he was being a bastard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was being kind,” Crowley finishes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale rewards him with a kiss. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And there’s one of the Muses to round it out,” Crowley says, once they’ve stopped kissing. “She’s not a complete idiot, which is about the best we can say about this group. She’s had some very good ideas.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder who was in charge of putting </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> group together,” Aziraphale says. “Guess they wanted to make absolutely sure that they didn’t put together a group that could actually achieve something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll have to keep a close eye on them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>On the train:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We… oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>again…</span>
  </em>
  <span> we should really keep an eye out,” Aziraphale gasps. “Armageddon and all that…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley looks at him wickedly. “Do you really want me to stop, angel?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale pouts. “Not at all, but if we don’t stop Armageddon again, we will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to do this. I’d rather not have this be one of our last times, dearest, not when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> got to have this with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley leans his forehead against Aziraphale’s. “I love you, angel,” he murmurs. They stand like that for several moments before Crowley adds, “Also, we’re on a train heading to New Jersey. What on Earth are two moronic angels going to accomplish on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>train</span>
  </em>
  <span> that we’ll need to be alert for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, you do have a point, my dear. Perhaps… oh, but at least we must be quick. They may be moronic, but I rather have my doubts about that ragtag team we’re following.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley snorts. “They’re getting drunk right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in that case, please do continue with that delightful thing you were doing. Your tongue does the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span> things.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley grins and reapplies his mouth to Aziraphale’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mindful of the time, he prepares Aziraphale in the occult (or ethereal) manner, not the human way, but it’s no less good when he sinks into his angel. Aziraphale seems to love it just as much, if his muffled moan is anything to go by.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lost in each other, they completely miss the commotion as the ragtag team first reveal themselves (accidentally) to the renegade angels and then toss them off the train.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley’s finding it much, much more important to keep his rhythm with both his thrusts and the hand currently wrapped around Aziraphale’s cock. They’re kissing fiercely, partly out of love and desire and also partly to muffle the sounds. Aziraphale (to no one’s surprise) is </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud</span>
  </em>
  <span> when fucking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale comes with a gasp, Crowley following him not much after. They slump against the wall and try to catch their breaths.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax,” Crowley pants, ignoring that Aziraphale is currently as relaxed as is possible to get. “Doubt we missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cardinal Glick:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turns out the church in New Jersey, run by the unspeakable Cardinal Glick, is not on consecrated ground. Either that, or Crowley is a whole lot less sensitive than before. Which is to say, he wanders right in without any weird hopping around. If asked, his guess would be that no place in America has enough history of consecration to really bother him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It also turns out that Crowley has no power within the church. He may be able to wander around without blistering his feet, but he can’t so much as hypnotise someone. Aziraphale’s hypnosis is too gentle to work on someone as mentally dull as Glick, unfortunately.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which means they actually have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Cardinal Glick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale takes the lead in the same office Bethany will make her appeal in. He’s sitting primly in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Crowley is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale gives a particularly angelic (and fake) smile. “Cardinal Glick, a pleasure. My name is Zira Fell and I’m such a fan of your work. Especially this… I’m sorry, what did you call this?” he asks, pointing at the grinning Jesus statue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Buddy Christ,” Glick says proudly. “Doesn’t he just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley startles both of them by laughing. “It’s fantastic,” he says. “I love it. I want one for my flat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the bedroom, dear, unless you want it to be a celibate marriage,” Aziraphale says sternly, forgetting the company they’re currently in. He blushes as he realises that Glick is there. “Oh, heavens, I do apologise, Cardinal. I’m aware that the church, well, rather…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Glick waves that off. “It’s… well, I won’t say it’s not a sin, because it is, and the Church does not make mistakes…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley manages to cover up his immediate sarcastic retort with a spectacularly unconvincing cough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Glick goes on as if he hadn’t heard. “But it’s not really one that I focus on. Anyway, go on. You were talking about Buddy Christ.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! Well, he’s just fantastic. Erm… just what the church needs to become really modern and stay… shoulder?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley laughs. “It’s hip, angel.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiles at him. “Thank you, my dear. Yes, to stay hip. This is just… very excellent. I think we in England could learn a lot from this.” Aziraphale smiles self-consciously. None of this seems believable to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Glick doesn’t seem to notice that Aziraphale is lying through his teeth. “A man of distinction and taste. Exactly what I told myself when you walked in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m so glad we’re on the same page. But, I was wondering… can you possibly move or cancel the large pardoning you’re planning on doing? I’m worried it sends the wrong message.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Glick frowns. “No. It’s happening, exactly as planned.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a bit more back-and-forth, but they leave having achieved nothing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley’s Breakfast:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley, dear, wake up,” Aziraphale urges, shaking Crowley in the bed they’d been sharing. They’d crashed in some shitty fucking motel in New Jersey while the other players moved into their places. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way of stopping the angels from starting Armageddon if the angels weren’t actually anywhere near the church, and neither of them particularly feel like tracking two morons through the various states between Wisconsin and New Jersey. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale wants to wake Crowley up before anything is due to happen. Maybe they can even find a place that serves a breakfast not drenched in flavoured high-fructose corn syrup. Aziraphale is feeling rather peckish, as they’d skipped dinner the night before. The only options open when they’d arrived in this part of New Jersey had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast food,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Aziraphale had taken one look at the options before walking right back out. It’s not like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> food to survive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley mumbles and turns in his sleep, curling into Aziraphale more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley, really, please wake up,” Aziraphale begs. “I need you awake, darling.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley grunts something and buries his face in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale is currently wearing pajamas, not because he did any sleeping, but because he was worried the bed’s questionable cleanliness would harm his meticulously maintained clothes in some way. Aziraphale’s cock takes an immediate interest in where Crowley’s head is and begins to harden.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley is suddenly a lot more awake, but he is now busy removing the pajama bottoms enough to get to Aziraphale’s cock. Before Aziraphale can say anything (perhaps ‘later, dear, I really want breakfast’ or ‘forget breakfast, this is a much better idea’), Crowley has taken the head into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale forgets all about breakfast and leans back against the bed to enjoy this. Crowley’s tongue </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> can do the most interesting things. Crowley -- now fully awake -- peers up at Aziraphale, then curls his suddenly forked tongue around the angel’s shaft.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing this,” Crowley says, mostly inarticulately, around his mouthful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale has enough presence of mind to chide, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear. It’s uncouth. It also doesn’t feel nearly as good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley lets Aziraphale’s cock slip from his mouth and purrs, “I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing this. I love the sounds you make, I love the way you taste, I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> it when I’ve brought you right to the edge and you flood my mouth…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale decides it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> turn to be uncouth and shoves Crowley’s head back down. “Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>do it,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hisses. Crowley lets his head be pushed down and relaxes his throat, swallowing around Aziraphale’s cock. He moans, which gets an answering moan from Aziraphale. Crowley </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> loves doing this, fucking loves everything about it, from the scents to the tastes to the sounds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale isn’t polite at all, thrusting </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> into Crowley’s mouth. Not that Crowley minds in the slightest. He moves one hand from Aziraphale’s thigh to stroke himself. Making Aziraphale feel good usually works Crowley up so much he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> wait -- and they both enjoy that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley keeps his tongue busy during the hard thrusts, often switching between the standard human tongue and his more serpentine forked tongue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale holds Crowley’s head in place and comes with a loud shout directly down his throat. Crowley comes seconds later, making a mess of the bedsheets (which, admittedly, were not exactly hygienic to begin with).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they lay panting on the bed, Aziraphale turns to look at the clock. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he sighs. “It’s too late to grab breakfast now. We have to go back to the church.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Some of those communications (emails and phone calls) between Loki, Bartleby, Crowley, and (sometimes) Aziraphale:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The First One:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greetings Exalted Demon Crowley, One of the Lords of Hell,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We hope this missive finds you in good circumstances and temper and beg pardon for intruding upon as high a Demon as you. We recall that in the bar, your evil self had indicated you would be willing to provide some pointers and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Skip as Crowley skims until he finds the </span>
  </em>
  <span>point</span>
  <em>
    <span> of the email:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, uh, we tried having genitalia, and that’s working out great, actually, we’ve had several orgasms each, but we’re a bit confused as to how that whole sex thing works. As you have outright stated that you and your husband, the Holy Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, Protector of Earth, routinely have sex, we were hoping you would enlighten us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In gratitude,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki (and Bartleby, but he’s pretending he doesn’t care. Trust me he really does).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley’s response:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yo guys, you can cut out all that grovelling shit. Crowley works just fine and Aziraphale -- hang on, I’ll ask him… Okay, so you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> to still call him Principality Aziraphale and so forth, at least until he feels you two can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay on Earth without mucking shit up. Also please just use plainer English. Time I spend figuring out what you want is time I am not fucking my husband, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tick tock motherfuckers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway. You’ll find humans have written entire books on what sex is and how to have it and I don’t think most of them get it totally right. Basically, sex is making each other feel good in a way that may result in an orgasm. But if it doesn’t, that’s fine too, as long as everyone’s had fun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which may not be helpful in getting you there. Both of you should get naked, that’s a good first start. Explore each others’ corporeal forms, you know, what makes you feel good and not. At some point, probably play with the other’s genitals. Kissing is also excellent, so do that too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You may then decide to advance to penetrative sex. If one of you went with a dick and the other with a cunt, you can choose to put the dick in and move in and out, the friction is what causes the orgasm. If you both decided to have dicks, you can also have anal sex. If you both went with vaginas, fingers, tongues, and toys work too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Happy fucking, guys!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Some exchanges later:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hey Crowley,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, you were 100% right about vibrators and clits, Loki took fifteen minutes to recover. Any other tips of sex toys to add in? Feel like we’re trying to make up for lost time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bartleby</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley’s response:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You two idiots wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make up for lost time if you’d understood the whole exile thing. (But we get it -- Crowley and I feel the same way. Why, we sometimes go entire weeks without getting out of bed -- Aziraphale). Try adding a butt plug while having vaginal sex, that’s… whoo. Especially if it vibrates. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Big</span>
  </em>
  <span> fan. (Can confirm, he screams so loud emergency services got called out once -- Aziraphale).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right, thanks, angel. Also, toys don’t have to be just for the genitals. Try bondage or impact play -- if you both agree to it, of course, and have a safeword that means stop. Blindfolds can be fun to play with, and ticklers… well, Aziraphale’s always been a big fan (It’s just so soft and lovely and you are really </span>
  <em>
    <span>most</span>
  </em>
  <span> wicked when wielding one, my dearest, it’s one of my favorite things -- Aziraphale).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Try those and let me know how it goes -- Crowley</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A different exchange:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greetings and Salutations, Exalted Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Protector of the Earth,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We hope this missive finds you and your husband in good health. We know that it was, in fact, Crowley who had said he would give us assistance with adapting properly to life on Earth, and we do hope you will forgive the intrusion; however, you are better suited to answering this question. At least, we believe so, given what we have learned of you and of your husband.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simply put, we’ve wanted to try foods like you’ve mentioned, such as sushi, but don’t know how to go about it or even what is worth trying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it is not too much to ask of you, Principality, could you see yourself guiding us on this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With warmest regards,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bartleby and Loki</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s response</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hello, Bartleby and Loki,</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Very well, I suppose at this junction you may just address me as Aziraphale. No nicknames, however.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Food is a very individual thing, what you like and dislike. (It’s a lot like sex in that way, guys -- Crowley). However, I am extremely fond of good pastry and would recommend either going to France or finding an </span>
  <em>
    <span>authentic</span>
  </em>
  <span> French restaurant. Oh, crepes are </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> (Seriously, guys, I had to rescue him from the guillotine because he went to France for </span>
  <em>
    <span>crepes</span>
  </em>
  <span> during the French Revolution. THAT’S how much he loves crepes -- Crowley).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I would recommend you try the food that sounds interesting to you, but do stay away from additives and preservatives and lots of strange sounding chemicals. Not because they’re bad for you -- you’re angels, it’s not going to manage to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to you -- but because they just don’t taste as good. Learn what you like. Some people like clean, simple dishes where high-quality ingredients can shine. Others like a much more heavily seasoned and spiced dish. It’s a very personal thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once you have an idea of what your particular palate is, let me know and I’ll recommend some foods from that to try.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nearly two years after the Incident With The Church, phone call to Crowley:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Crowley, it’s Bartleby. I hope it’s not a bad time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hey man. Nah, Aziraphale’s stuck in some first edition he got last week, so I’ve got time. What’s up? Where are you guys now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Cardiff. Yeah, working our way across the world. Been fun, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that I mind a bit of a chat, but why are you calling?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you know how you suggested some fun things to try in your last email?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, yeah, ‘course I do. You’re not calling me for advice </span>
  <em>
    <span>during</span>
  </em>
  <span> something, are you? Because I have to tell you right now, that’s a bit too close for me to participating, and I’m strictly a one-angel demon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no. So, our ability to do, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>special</span>
  </em>
  <span> things is a bit compromised with the whole exile thing, I think you follow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No miracles, at a guess. Although you still manage to manifest genitalia.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I think that’s the limit. I don’t know if that’s a joke from Above or not.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, 50-50.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, so that’s been a bit difficult, and uh…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Hey Crowley, it’s Loki. I’m taking over because Bartleby will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> get to the point. Look, you know we were trying the ideas you sent us. One of which was fucking in public, and your suggestion </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> included something it turns out we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do, and we got caught and are now being detained in jail and can you please bail us out? Because we can’t even manage </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  ………….. God</span>
  <em>
    <span>dammit</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crowley, would you at least stop laughing long enough to answer me?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry, that’s hysterical. I mean, you know what Aziraphale said… you so much as walk on the grass when you’re not supposed to…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no. Oh shit. Bartleby, we’re staying in jail! It’s better than the Principality lecturing us again!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, heavens, really? Hello, Loki, it’s Aziraphale. Well, that’s probably obvious, actually. Anyway, I know I was rather harsh with you back in New Jersey, but you two haven’t caused any trouble since. And I must admit, I can understand the thrill of public intercourse. We’ll be along shortly to bail you out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Email not long after that:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hey Crowley and Aziraphale,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was great to see you two again! Glad we could grab dinner while we were in London and catch up (thanks, by the way, for that sobering trick, that’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lifesaver. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And thank you AGAIN for bailing us out). We’re in Paris now, and Aziraphale’s right -- crepes are AMAZING. Loki ate so many he wished there was a trick similar to the sobering one for crepes. We didn’t even THINK angels could get stomach aches from overeating. Might go along with that whole ‘no miracles thing’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway, this time we’re writing not to ask for more tips -- actually think we’ve got a handle now on what makes Earth so great, thanks for that. No, Loki remembered a story that we forgot to tell you and Crowley, you’re going to like this one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right around when we found out about New Jersey and the church and all that, we were hanging out at the airport because people-watching is fun. And Loki decides to start telling a nun why he’s not religious anymore using Lewis Carroll’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Walrus and the Carpenter</span>
  </em>
  <span> and how the carpenter is obviously Jesus Christ and the Walrus symbolizes the Eastern religions and between them they lead along the little clams and eat them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nun is so moved by this worldview that she stops collecting donations and goes off to find herself or some shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thought you’d like that one, Crowley.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Also, either one of you (or both!) wanna come to Eastern Europe with us? We haven’t left America since we got exiled and don’t speak anything but English, and we were guessing you two must know something else, since you’ve been stationed here since Eden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Let us know,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bartleby and Loki</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hey Bartleby and Loki,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’re right that is funny. Exactly the kind of shit I’d pull! One of the low-level mischief things, well done (Aziraphale here: I THOROUGHLY disapprove of this! The poor woman, when you two have been in the presence of God!) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, guys, Aziraphale laughed for five minutes straight when I told him, then decided it was horrible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yeah, we can come to Eastern Europe -- been a LONG time since we’ve been -- but I’m not sure how much we can help with languages. Aziraphale has always been hopeless at learning new spoken languages. He only learns a new one when he cannot at all get by with the previous one he knew. (At least I can READ in all of those languages, Crowley, and another several dozen! -- Aziraphale). Okay, fine, he’s got me there, I can’t read in most of those languages. I can speak more than him though, but it’s been like centuries since I went to Eastern Europe and I’m pretty sure none of it is still used, but eh, sounds like a good time. If anything, Aziraphale and I can at least use miracles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>See you two soon,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley (and Aziraphale)</span>
</p>
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